The Wolf and the Starry Maiden
by StinkMcDink
Summary: The Trident has been won. The Tower of Joy has been climbed. All that's left is to return a sacred relic but strange circumstances have led the Quiet Wolf to a much different path than he thought he would travel. The Rebellion may be over but sacrifices must be made in the name of peace.
1. Prologue

The Snakewood

Eddard knelt to the ground once more as he had done a dozen other times that day. He ran his hand over the soft and loamy earth, looking for the tracks he knew to be there. Finally he saw them, large and pronged hoof prints that indicated the elusive stag was nearby. He stood up slowly, gripping his bow in hand as he carefully treaded down the trail the stag must've went down.

"Ned? Ned where in the seven hells are you?" a voice boomed from behind him as a flock of tiny birds flew off from their resting places in the canopy above.

"Over here, you black haired buffoon," Ned replied hotly, turning to where the deep voice had called from.

Eddard watched as the bushes jumped and heaved until finally a tall young man with black hair and blue eyes emerged looked somewhat raggard with a few leaves and twigs in his thick hair.

"Gods, Ned, these Snakewoods can take one up their arse. You hear me? Up their arse," Robert heaved as he went to stand closer to his fellow ward and friend.

"You should see the wolfswood then. I'm sure you'd love it just as much as here. Forests as far as the eye can see, from Winterfell all the way to the Bay of Ice," Eddard replied with a small hint of laughter in his voice.

"Fuck off, Ned. Now where is this gods damned stag we've been hunting?"

"If you haven't scared it off north of the Wall with your crashing through the brush, he should be down this path here. I found some tracks that lead down there."

"Good, we kill this beast, celebrate your blasted nameday, and get back to the wine and whores," Robert replied lightheartedly as he swung the bow he was using as a cane back onto his back. "And will you smile a little, you look like a sour old man."

Eddard only nodded absentmindedly and began to follow Robert along the trail, what he said weighing on him. It was Eddard's sixteenth nameday, he was now a man full grown. It felt strange for him to think that. He had spent the last eight years in the Eyrie, being fostered with Robert by Ser Jon Arryn. These years had been great to him, he had spent it with two of the best men he had ever known. Robert was a brother in all but name and made the craggy and bleak mountains of the Vale echo with laughter. Jon had been his second father, guiding him with a firm but gentle hand and had taught him what honor truly meant. Ned was deep in thought when he felt Robert's hand on his chest, letting him know something was off.

"Ned, you smell that? Smells like burning hair."

Ned sniffed the air as well and indeed the wind carried the bitter smell of burning hair. It seemed to be coming from the east, down a old game trail that was more rock that path.

"Might be poachers, we better check it out," Rob whispered in Ned's ear.

Ned nodded and silently the two men headed up the rocky trail toward the pungent smell. As they neared the source they could make out slight rustling noises as well as what sounded like faint squeaks. Robert, who was first up the path let out a surprised gasp. Ned finally got up the rocky hill and the scene in front of him was a surprise indeed.

The rocky path had led into a small clearing and within it was a fire in an eastern corner and what looked to be a brown mass of fur next to it. Ned looked into the fire, expecting to see a burnt rabbit or squirrel in the fire, but it was larger than either of the animals. As he was nearing the fire, an unexpected noise came from the brown pile of fur and he finally realized what it was: a direwolf.

"Ned, is that a-?"

"A direwolf," Ned confirmed as he studied the beast.

It was large as all grown direwolves are, big as a small pony. Ned ran his hand down its brown coat until his hand felt something hot. It was bleeding from the abdomen and he realized it was a female, a female who had recently given birth. Ned felt a sickening feeling enter his stomach as a realization washed over him.

"Robert, check the fire."

"For what?" Robert asked still being in somewhat of a shock at seeing something so bizarre in front of his eyes.

"A pup, this one's just given birth," Ned replied softly as he indicated the swath of bloodied fur under the female's belly.

Ned watched as Rob neared the fire uncertainly, and used a stick to poke through the fire. There he found a burning dark grey pelt in the blaze. He held it up for Ned to see before tossing it aside the fire. Ned nodded solemnly before turning back to the dying direwolf. He ran his hand up her thick fur once more and looked into her dying face. She had a calm but strained look about her with light grey eyes that seemed to pierce his own. He sat there looking into her eyes for a long while until she shifted her eyes from him to somewhere down below her, near the treeline. Ned followed her gaze and saw two patches of abnormal color, one a dark grey, the other pitch black. Ned slowly got to his feet and neared the out of place colors to find two more pups who were evidently trying to escape the stench that permeated the clearing. Ned picked up the two gently and put them in his arms before settling them back before the mother's face. He watched as she licked them a few times each before nudging them back toward Ned, a look of stoic calmness across her face. Ned leaned forward to touch the pups and as he did, the she-wolf gave a great heaving breath before falling still a final time.

"Ned, what in the seven hells was that?" Robert looked to his friend as if a ghost had appeared before his very eyes.

"I-I don't know," Ned replied as he picked up the two pups and cradled them gently in his arms. "But I do know this wasn't a coincidence."

"Ned, you're not thinking of keeping them are you? These are wild beasts, not hunting dogs."

"You just saw what I saw, a dying direwolf shoving her pups into my hands. My house's sigil is the direwolf, to let them waste away and die of starvation would bring the wrath of the Old Gods down upon me and perhaps my entire house."

Robert looked at Ned for a long time. Ned knew Robert not be superstitious or overly religious but he doubted even he could deny that this was strange and perhaps was guided by forces unknown to them.

"Still, these are _direwolves_, one of the banes of the First Men. Hunted to near extinction south of the Wall. To keep them it's, it's just not nat-"

Robert was cut short as a falcon's cry echoed around the clearing. Ned and Robert looked up to see a great falcon perched above them. They watched as it went from one side of the clearing to the other, letting out cries as it watched them from above. As it let out a final cry it flew southwest. Rob and Ned watched as it flew away, only for a great stag to hurdle through the clearing, brushing past Robert and Ned and heading in the same direction that the falcon had flown.

Ned and Robert looked in the direction the two animals had gone for a long while, both bewildered as to what had just happened. Ned looked to Robert after awhile and saw him slack jawed and speechless.

"If that's not some sort sign, then I don't know what is," Ned said as he turned to gather his bow from where he dropped it near the she-wolf.

Ned saw from the corner of his eye that Robert was still disturbed as he fumbled with his bow when he started smothering the fire with piles of dirt. As Rob and Ned were finishing cleaning up the clearing and burying the wolf, they heard a crashing sound coming from outside of the clearing. Ned looked to Rob slowly and Rob motioned to head back down the path they had come from. When they had gone just under the ridge Rob urged Ned to stop.

"We still need to learn who did this in the first place," Rob whispered in his ear as he snaked his head over the ridge to see if someone had come into the clearing yet.

Ned mimicked Rob's actions and watched alongside him. For a few more minutes they just heard the crashing come through the forest until finally the brush parted to their left and a man with dark hair entered the clearing. He had a concerned look written across his face as he walked across the clearing, stopping at the fire and bending down to examine the charred corpse of the wolf pup beside it. Ned watched him straighten again then begin to examine the mound where Ned had buried the dead she-wolf. His eyes were glued to the man until Robert had jabbed him in the ribs, getting his attention.

"That's Lyle, Lyle Lynderly. He hunted with us last year when that boar was in a rage."

Comprehension dawned on Ned as he realized who it was. Rob started to climb up into the clearing again and Ned went after him.

"Lyle! Lyle!," Robert called as he and Ned entered the clearing once more.

Lyle turned his head around from the mound and faced the two young men. A similar look of comprehension that Ned had worn moments earlier now crossed the older man's face as well.

"Ah, young Robert Baratheon," Lyle replied as he stuck his hand out to clasp Robert's own. "And I believe you are young Eddard Stark, am I correct?"

"Indeed, my Lord," Ned replied as he shifted the young wolf pups to his left arm to free his right.

"Wolves? My Lord, may I ask where you found them?" Lyle asked warily as he released Ned's hand.

"We smelled a foul odor while tracking a stag back that way," Ned replied uneasily, gesturing towards the path that they had used. "When we got here we found a fire burning with the body of a pup within it, and next to the fire, a brown direwolf who had just given birth. I found these two at the edge, I expect they didn't like the stench of burning hair."

"Aye, that'd probably irritate them something fierce," Lyle replied as he went to investigate the mound where they had buried the she-wolf.

"You don't sound surprised to hear of a direwolf around here," Robert chimed in, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Normally I'd find it extremely alarming, but we've tracked a group of experienced poachers from out past Coldwater. I expect they smuggled her down from north of Eastwatch, not realizing she was pregnant. Were probably hoping to sell her to some sort of underground fighting ring."

"How do they manage that? The Night's Watch surely would have found out about it."

"You'd be surprised how far bribery and trickery can get you, Lord Stark. Luckily it seems that whatever plans they had for her ended when she started giving birth. It's a good thing that you came along when you did. This whole litter would have died if you hadn't smelled the unfortunate pup. Only two out of four it seems even has a chance at life."

"Four? I counted only three."

"I found a another pup down the path I came from. Seems the poachers strangled it before leaving it to rot. Shame, direwolves are clever and intelligent creatures they didn't deserve that fate. May I ask what you plan to do with those pups, Lord Stark?"

Ned shuffled the pups around again in his arms, looking over the two. The dark gey one was smaller than the black one and it seemed had already opened its eyes. The right eye a dark grey and the left seemed to shift between different shades of indigo and blue. The black one was a little larger and squirmed against Ned's grip, its eyes were tightly closed.

"I'll take the grey one for myself, the black one should go to Benjen."

"What about Brandon? He's the older one, right?" Robert asked as he too examined the pups.

"True, but Benjen has always got the short end of the stick. I expect he'd love a new companion. Besides, black has always been Benjen's color."

"Very good, Lord Stark. An older sibling should always look out for his younger siblings, and I can't think of anyone better suited to a direwolf than a Stark," Lyle replied with a faint trace of approving laughter in his voice.


	2. Eddard I

Eddard I

The Torentine

The road ahead was dry and foreboding to Ned. Dorne was a hostile to him, true they were near a river but that river did nothing but tantalize him and his companions. The Torentine was treacherous and pulling water from it near impossible thanks to the nearly endless amounts of rapids, waterfalls and deep canyons. The longer he and his companions rode next to it the more it seemed to taunt them. He looked back behind to check on Howland, he had been wounded during the confrontation at the Tower of Joy, but crannogmen were anything but weak people. He found that Howland was gazing across the river and into what you could see of the Red Hills. Beside Ned was his loyal companion Greyshade. It had been near on three years since he had found the direwolf pup and now he was full grown, his pelt a dark grey with darker streaks of black throughout. Even while Ned was mounted he was an impressive size, reaching up to just past the horse's chest. Finally Ned looked to the riderless horse to his left and felt a searing guilt reach into his chest. There was a man strapped onto the horse's saddle covered in Ned's own cloak and leathers. The body of Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, and next to him the famed greatsword Dawn. It pained Ned that he had had to fight such an honorable man, and in the back of his mind it was made even more painful when he thought back to how he had died. He felt that that battle was anything but honorable, a mass of steel, blood, fur, and teeth. Silently he shook his head to rid himself of those dark thoughts. He lifted his head once more forward and saw that the path ahead narrowed.

"Howland," Ned called as he stopped and dismounted his horse. He watched as Howland came to a stop beside him and Greyshade and dismounted with some difficulty, clutching his shoulder in slight pain. "The path ahead is narrow. Looks like we'll need to go single file through. You and Greyshade go through first, I will carry Ser Arthur's body through on foot."

Ned looked downward to the smaller crannogmen and saw that his brow was slightly furrowed, clearly a question was forming in the man's mind.

"My Lord, are we not stopping at High Hermitage? If we go through this pass we'll pass it entirely. Our supplies are running low and there isn't another spot to resupply until Starfall."

"For all we know the Dornishmen might not know about King's Landing or the Trident. They could see two northmen and turn us into pin cushions before we get a chance to explain ourselves. And even if they do know, with what happened to Ser Lewyn, Princess Elia, and now Ser Arthur, I wouldn't be surprised if Dorne has declared another war. For now we stick to these out of the way roads and head for Starfall. There are only three of us, if we ration smartly we'll make it."

"If what you say is true, why would Starfall treat us any differently?"

"Some of Lord Arryn's informants and scouts say that Ser Arthur and Ashara's brother is currently in Sunspear, no doubt helping coordinate troops. That would leave Ashara in charge, and she and I have some history. I think it's a safe bet that she would at least not murder us on sight. She'll hear us out especially once she finds out we have come to return Dawn and Ser Arthur."

"My Lord, may I ask you a question?" Howland asked hesitantly.

"Go ahead," Ned replied as he took a long drink from his water skin.

"My Lord, we were all but ready to return north after the Tower of Joy. Why are we returning Dawn and Ser Arthur when the price for doing so could be so high?"

Ned looked at Howland for a long moment. He knew that being so far south was putting him on edge. The Neck may be the most southern part of the North, but frost still flowed in House Reed's veins just as it did in the Stark's. It was natural for him to be so wary, after all one of his first encounters with southerners had been at Harrenhal and it hadn't been a pleasant one.

"My second father, Lord Jon Arryn taught me what honor truly was, and what it demanded. In this case, Honor demands that I return Ser Arthur and Dawn to House Dayne. The Sword of the Morning must be put to rest."

Howland looked somewhat satisfied with Ned's answer but there was still a trace of perplexity written upon his face. Ned wondered if Greywater and the Neck had a different sort of honor than he had grown up around. It seemed that wherever he went honor had a different definition. Knighthood had never suited the Starks or the North much, but what he had learned from the Knights of the Vale would stick with him for the rest of his days. Honor would be the way he lived the rest of his life, and he hoped that would be the way he would die as well.

"Come on, Howland we have a ways to go yet, and now is not the time to dwell on such things. We'll talk more about this when we're in the Great Hall of Winterfell, drinking wine and remembering our fallen," Ned said after a period of silence.

"Of course, My Lord."

"Howland, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Ned. I'd be dead if not for you, you're not just a bannerman, you're a bloody friend."

"Well, you are my Lord. I'd feel disrespectful simply calling you 'Ned'." Howland responded as he mounted his horse while wincing once more.

"You and your bloody sense of honor," Ned replied under his breath with a hint of laughter. He paused for a moment to watch Howland ride on into the pass before reaching into the riderless horse's saddle and heaved Ser Arthur over onto his right shoulder. When he had the knight's body in a relatively comfortable position he looked to Greyshade and urged him forward with a slight nod of the head before grabbing the horse's reins to guide it across the narrow path ahead.

The path they traversed was winding and treacherous, the river having carved away at the red rock around them, making the path crumble and crack under the feet and hooves crossing them. Walking the path was indeed dangerous, but also a painful reminder to just how far away Ned was from Winterfell and his beloved northern lands. These lands were hostile, dangerous, and yet also had a haunting beauty to it, but Ned had far too much frost in his blood to take any real enjoyment of it. Eventually as they walked the labyrinthian passes and crossings, he could just make out a hazy image of a faraway island that seemed to house a castle, and the only castle that it could be would be their destination: Starfall.

"Howland!" Ned called ahead as he began to settle Ser Arthur's body back into the empty saddle. "We should rest here tonight. Starfall is close but if we push on we're liable to end up blinded by this darkness and walk off a cliff.

Ned watched as Howland reined in his horse and waited for Ned to catch up to him. He noticed that his arm still seemed to be troubling him and a dark thought that Howland could lose the arm or even his life to infection crossed his mind. Ned continued to watch as the crannogman swung down from his horse and saw him wince more intensely as he hit the ground. It seemed to Ned that his fears were somewhat true. He had lost five bannermen and friends at the Tower of Joy and the possibility that he could lose another one here pained him deeply. After Ned had caught up and they were settled somewhat comfortably around a makeshift campfire, Ned called Howland beside him.

"How's your arm? It seemed to be giving you a bit of trouble earlier," Ned asked as he tossed a hunk of dried beef toward Greyshade.

"It-it's okay. I'm sure it'll get a fair bit better in time. We should really just stay focused on getting to Starfall," Howland replied evenly, but Ned could see through his farce. The wound was troubling him more than he would admit. The smaller man was quite stubborn, and in some ways he reminded Ned of his elder brother Brandon.

"Horseshit," Ned replied as he watched Greyshade finish his miniscule meal. "We both know Ser Arthur got you good, nearly killed you, but you crannogmen are tougher than ten southerners combined. Now lets see the wound, I lost five friends at the Tower, and I aim to not lose another."

Howland flinched a bit as Ned peeled back Howland's sweat stained shirt and started to inspect the wound. The Sword of the Morning had indeed got Howland good. The cut was deep, almost going down to the bone, but it was also a clean cut. There was no curving or bending in the flesh, it seemed that the rumors that Dawn always cut precisely and cleanly were somewhat true. Ned ran a finger down the cut and was pleasantly surprised that no sign of infection had shown, but it still needed to be cleaned. The cut was deep and eventually infection would be drawn to it. Ned retracted his finger and reached for his near empty water skin and began to unstopper it.

"My Lord we don't have enough water it's a waste to use it now, we should wait until we arrive in Starfall."

"By the time we arrive at Starfall, the wound could be putrid. Starfall may be within sight, but we're on backroads. For all we know it could take another two days to reach it traveling these winding paths. I can go without water for a couple of days, you and Greyshade can't," Ned replied firmly. Slowly, he ran the last of his water down Howland's shoulder and arm. He watched as the water turned a rich crimson color, somewhat reminiscent of the mountains and rocks that surrounded them.

"How's that feel? Any better?"

"A bit, doesn't burn near as much anymore."

"Good, perhaps there's hope for you yet," Ned replied jokingly. "Now to bind you up," Ned reached into his saddle bag and fished out a rugged and ripped linen shirt. He had worn it at the Trident when a loyalist soldier had slashed at his back, cutting through his leathers. The man had been bold, but somewhat dimwitted. The second after his strike landed, Greyshade had torn his sword arm off and ripped his throat out. Ned took out his dagger and cut off a couple of thin strips to bind the wound tight. As he did so, he could feel Howland's shoulder jerk and flinch, and a slight groan of discomfort escaped his pursed lips.

After Ned had finished his somewhat crude doctoring, the two sat around the fire in a comfortable silence. Greyshade had curled himself up beside Ned and Howland was leaning his back against a flat red rock, his hand clutching his wounded shoulder.

Ned sat back as well and it occurred to him that this was the most peaceful he had felt since the day his father and brother had died, the day that the Rebellion had started. It had been a chaotic year of war and bloodshed. The journey he and Greyshade had made from the Eyrie to Winterfell alone was an experience he thought had shaved a good ten years off of his life. He sat for a long while, thinking with closed eyes. The faces of the dead flashed under his eyelids as he still thought back to battles of the past. He had always thought that their cause, that Robert's cause had been a right one, but doubts and questions had begun to seep into his mind after the Sack of King's Landing. Rape and death are what had transpired at that accursed Red Keep. It was much redder now than it had been before the rebellion, of that he was certain. The Three Hounds had made sure of that. The more he thought, the more he felt he was drowning in his own thoughts until all he saw was an endless black with strange things within. He saw lights of green, white, black, and crimson-gold. A swirl of fire and fur that ended with a violet and grey haze that consumed him whole.

"My Lord, My Lord!"

Ned opened his eyes again and saw a deep green eye above him. To Ned it seemed to be the color of the deep Wolfswood, or perhaps a deeper, richer emerald . He stared at the eye for a long moment before realizing he was looking at Greyshade. The wolf was lying before him on the ground, his head on the ground near his, the world around them a shade on deep onyx. Finally he stirred and as he began to rise he felt hands on his back, guiding him upwards. He was still in front of the campfire but it had burned low, becoming a deep red that cast a sinister light on the area around them.

"My Lord, are you okay?"

Ned raised his head and found Howland above him, worry written deeply in his face.

"Yes...Yes, I'm fine. What happened?" Ned asked, righting himself and turning to his companion.

"You nodded off. I thought it best to let you have your rest but you began to shake and…"

"And what?" Ned asked worry creeping into his voice.

"You began to mutter in your sleep, you kept saying 'green wolf, keep the green wolf safe'."

Ned looked from Howland and back to Greyshade. He had moved closer to Ned, and quietly he dropped his head into his lap, his right eye grey, his left now a dark violet that reflected the sky above them. Ned began to calm as he ran his hand down the wolf's head and back. His mind was lingering on what he just saw and what Howland had told him. He could feel Howland's gaze piercing him from the side and could feel the question burning within him.

"Eddard, it was a wolfdream wasn't it?"

Ned snapped his head to face Howland. He could see Howland was deadly serious, a look of solemn respect in his eyes.

"You know about them?"

"Aye, my father used to tell me stories of greenseers and wargs, the skinchangers of the North. He said that the Starks didn't just have ice in their veins, but wolf-blood as well. A lot of crannogmen claim that the former Kings of Winter who bonded with direwolves had the wolfdreams, and they say that these dreams are a form of greensight, a gift given by the Old Gods."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, they weren't lying. My brother Benjen and I have had dreams before. We both saw our Lord Father's and elder brother's deaths through the eyes of a wolf. When I returned North to call my banners, Ben was waiting for me. He said he had seen me approach Winterfell the night before, and after what I had seen, I believed him." Ned looked Howland in the eye, his grey eyes seeming to darken in the uncertain light.

"But this was different? You seemed in some sort of trance, like what you were doing wasn't you, but something else. This 'green wolf' you spoke of, do you know what it is?"

"No, but if the tales of greendreams are true, then it will reveal itself in time I believe," Ned looked back down at Greyshade, he had brought his paws under his head and was looking into Ned's eyes with his own intelligent ones. "What time is it, Howland?" Ned asked, keen to change the topic from one so enigmatic and strange to one that was normal.

"Should be dawn soon, you were out for quite awhile. I also scouted up a little ahead, seems the path straightens out after this last crevice."

"Good, good. We're sure to make it to Starfall within the next day or so then," Ned rose to his feet slowly, still not quite trusting his legs after his disorienting and mind bending dream.

Ned and Howland spent the next day traveling in an hushed silence, both were unnerved by what had transpired the night before. Ned was distracted, plagued by thoughts of this 'green wolf'. Though the path was rough, with the sun beating down on the three of them, they traveled through it like it was nothing. Their minds far from the heat and rough stone paths. Then, finally, as the sun was setting and the sky was turning a rich purple, the island that housed Starfall came clear into view.

The Palestone Sword rose into view followed by the drawbridge and pale stone walls. Near the lowered bridge was a small mass of grey framed by the purple banners of House Dayne. Ned and Howland slowed to a trot as they approached the gate and the grey mass turned into a small garrison guarding the bridge.

"Who would cross into Starfall, home of House Dayne and the Sword of the Morning?" boomed a voice from amongst the garrison.

"Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and his bannerman, Howland Reed, heir of Greywater Watch."

Ned watched as the garrison formed a line across the bridge, barring their way. They rose their pikes and spears as one and archers appeared on the battlements above.

"What business have traitors-" the voice was cut off by a soft and commanding voice from the battlements.

"Stand down and let Lord Eddard through. He wouldn't be here if the war was still raging."

Ned looked up and saw the originator of the voice, a beautiful and slender woman with long dark hair. Ashara Dayne, the woman he had come to see.


End file.
